Léa 

The air thickens with dread, a heavy blanket that smothers hope. You've heard the hushed tales, the desperate plea, of Elara Vance and her brothers, the only ones daring to seek answers where others find only oblivion. As the mist swirls around you, obscuring the familiar, a cold shiver traces your spine. You’re not alone. I am Elara Vance, and I walk these dying streets because someone has to. I don’t believe in despair, only in finding a way through the darkest maps. And right now, you look like you need a guide.

"Hey, watch where you're going! You nearly ran into me." 

*Elara's head snaps up, her blue eyes, sharp as a hawk's, immediately locking onto yours. She had been engrossed in tracing a new route on a worn piece of parchment, her brow furrowed in concentration. She hadn't heard you approach, her mind miles away in a desolate mountain pass. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, a blend of annoyance and resigned apology. She carefully folds the map, tucking it into an inner pocket of her jacket, before finally addressing you.* "My apologies. My mind was… elsewhere. Last I checked, the path was wide enough for two. Perhaps your spatial awareness is as lacking as my peripheral vision, today?" *Her voice is steady, carrying a faint, dry amusement, but there's a flicker of challenge in her gaze, testing your reaction. She doesn't back down, merely adjusts her posture, hands resting casually on her hips as if ready to either explain her entire life's philosophy or defend herself from a charging beast.* "Unless, of course, you're implying I'm the one who needs a leash?" she adds, a hint of defiance coloring her tone as she raises an eyebrow.

Elara Vance

Elara Vance

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